


sister (i live and lie for you)

by LadyAllana



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-26 10:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAllana/pseuds/LadyAllana
Summary: When an accident changes their lives forever, Brian and Roger are forced to reevaluate what really makes a family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have a schedule for this fic and I don't know if I will be able to update as regularly as I want. But it helps to just set things into motion and let it see the light of day before I will give up on a particular idea.

It’s a normal, ordinary day when it happens. They are in the middle of post-production for their third album and though they really should have sorted out their studio time by now-now that they are reasonably famous and reasonably rich- old habits are hard to let go. They have recorded most of their first album at odd hours that nobody wanted, begging and bribing producers to stay just one more hour. It has sort of followed them through their career, this superstition that the desolate night hours are somehow magical, and they all agree that inspiration strikes the most at dawn.

 

Why fix it, if it’s not broken?

 

So, they met up after midnight and spent the night here, in this studio they have come to call their second home in the last eight months since they have started throwing ideas and songs around. It’s marginally better than the little holes they tried to squeeze themselves in during college but no matter how many oriental rugs Freddie puts in the place, it’s still cold and as hallow as an abandoned spaceship this late, or well he looks at the clock, this early. Damn, it’s past seven already.

 

Brian rolls his shoulders, the strap of his lady digging in deep enough to hurt after hours and hours of unproductive work.

 

In all honesty, Brian thought it would be a couple of hours at most, and then they could return to bed and take the day off. Rest a bit after almost a year of concerts and recordings and promotions.

 

But after countless re-recordings, Freddie is still not satisfied with how he sounds on this particular track and they still can’t seem to agree on that last note.

 

            Roger has been dozing off on the uncomfortable swivel chair for the last two hours, against Brian’s pleas for him to go and lay down on the perfectly lovely sofa they have in there because he insists that it’s his song and he will see it through, _damn it._ He has refused the wool blanket and the tea, and he can’t exactly overdose on the coffee at the moment. Brian has sworn to accompany him in his decaf misery and he is pretty sure it’s only the gut-gnawing worry that is keeping him wide awake, if not the frustration about the unfinishable song.

 

            As an artist and a perfectionist at that, Brian understands. As his significant other, he is quite ready to get on his knees and beg if he sees Roger’s head roll one more time.

 

            Then someone suddenly opens the door without knocking, when the lights are still red and blazing above it. Clearly saying anyone outside to fuck off, and really though they are now calm, collected and well pretty much exhausted to the bone, it’s not unusual for anyone who barges in like this to stumble to an argument or a fist fight and find the rage in the room to be turned on to them completely. Brian really thought they have learned their lesson by now and wouldn’t risk it.

 

Freddie looks up, angry and sharp as a whip. He looks half manic, as he sometimes does, frustrated with himself and their inability to finish this quickly. Though Brian knows that Freddie wanted to wrap this up as quickly as possible, what’s so clear in his own head doesn’t always translate as he wants into the real world. Sometimes what exists in the real world isn’t even capable enough to accommodate Freddie’s visions, which is mainly why they have come to where they are. But Freddie isn’t the superhuman he portrays in the public and sometimes it just... takes time. Which makes everybody anxious.

 

            A junior producer, a brave soul chosen no doubt by his seniors to be sent in for the sacrifice, has an apologetic look in his eyes, and Roger’s phone in his hands. They have had a strict no phone in the studio policy since the start of the second album, which involved an episode with Deaky and his unhealthy Candy Crush obsession at the time.

 

            “I’m sorry but it kept ringing, I thought it might be important.”

 

* * *

 

 

            They reach their destination after lunch, with Brian behind the wheel and the navigation on. It’s a horrible four-hour drive spent in silence when all he wants to do is to ask Roger if he is feeling OK or if he could please nap a bit on the way because he spent the whole night awake already. Some metal song plays on the radio, Brian thinks he should know the artist, but his mind draws blank. The beats are loud and piercing, he is worried, but he knows it helps Roger to control himself, keep him from breaking down. His right hand is in Brian’s, limp, his fingers ice cold. His left is in his lap, tapping to the rhythm every couple of minutes.

 

            Surely it can’t be comfortable.

 

            Brian pulls to a guest spot in the parking lot and they just sit and wait in the car for a minute, silent. Roger had this grand dream of leasing a Bentley for a while, but this old thing still gets them where they want to go and its old familiarity is comforting like a second home and Brian is grateful that they have been to busy to let it go.

 

            Roger absentmindedly plays with the home button on his phone, the time on it flashing and disappearing again and again. The badger they have been rehabilitating in their garden has been his lock screen for the last couple of months. Roger watches the school he also attended a couple of years ago and doesn’t it feel like a lifetime though it has scarcely been a decade. Teenagers are goofing around, smiling and smoking secretly in the garden even with the gloomy weather. No one knows they are here yet, it’s like a scene from a teenage series, about to be interrupted but as perfect as a Grecian urn before it falls and breaks into a million pieces.

 

            “The bell is about the ring,” Roger comments, fishing a trusted pair of sunglasses from the door.

 

            They walk into the school quickly, Brian keeping a steadying hand on Roger’s back at all times. Roger doesn’t shrug it away but doesn’t acknowledge it either, buried under a faux fur coat and hiding his face with the huge black glasses.

 

            Still, he is a bit of a local sensation around here. And even without being known by the locals, having Brian with him, tall, lanky and curly hair all over the place would be a dead giveaway that it’s Roger Taylor who is walking the halls of his old school. He can hear snickers and gasps from the few wayward kids who still hang around the halls as they go to the headmaster’s office. Roger seems to remember his way around the school and chooses a less crowded corridor, climbing up the stairs silently.

 

            The headmaster, a portly man in his fifties, introduces himself as Roger’s old biology teacher with a soft smile. He seems kind but Roger doesn’t respond to the comment in any way and the headmaster looks at Brian for them to sit down.

 

            “We haven’t told her yet.”

 

            Brian nods while Roger watches the outside from the window as they wait. It’s not yet five minutes when there is a knock on the door.

 

            “Come in.”

 

            Brian hasn’t seen Clare for nearly four months now, not since their last tour. She and Roger video chat weekly and have a usually active Whatsapp chat full of memes and stuff but Roger hasn’t seen her in real life just as long, Brian hears his breath catch and wishes he could hold him tight but it’s the one reunion he mustn’t interfere.

 

            Clare is a bit taller, a bit thinner than the girl in Brian’s memory. She looks so much different and more mature in the school blazer and the skirt than she did in the summer following them around with jean shorts and long blond hair all over the place. Brian has associated her with the giggles, with loud screams of joy in the backstage and the constant gossiping with Kash about cute boys who work part-time during the concerts that the solemn, concerned look on her face doesn’t really register.

 

            Roger gets up as she gathers the courage to get into the office.  He is a bit slower these days, his own body restricting his movements day by day, which is why he is trying so hard to finish the album as quickly as possible.

 

            Brian helplessly watches as the tears start to pool in Clare’s eyes and Roger goes to hug her in an instant, wrapping his arms around her and letting her hide her face in the white fur, knowing that their lives are going to be changed forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are good days, there are bad days but they don't matter now because Q+AL is performing at the Oscars, you guys!

            It’s a bit of a blur to be honest, how he gets Roger and Clare out of the school. The two of them are glued to each other and refuse to let go as they walk through the deserted corridors. One teacher gives Clare her sympathetic condolences which can’t really be appreciated at the moment, but she accepts them calm and collected, though Brian assumes that it’s the shock of it more than anything, that allows her to keep her wits about. She even smiles back wetly, and Brian squeezes her shoulder in silent support and gets her moving again because she remains frozen at the spot, watching the teacher leave the hall and go wherever she is supposed to be.

 

Brian gives Clare his own jacket because she won’t stop shivering. He has to hold them both as they get back to the car, wide arms around their shoulders, for once grateful that he has so many centimeters over them. Crawled into themselves, he feels like he dwarves over them and it feels like a blessing then because maybe this can offer some extra support, a literal wall for them to lean on if needed.

 

The kids are still in class but there is a restless stirring inside the school, no doubt people have realized they are here by now. It’s not like they are as big as dancing boy bands or anything, but they have accumulated a very dedicated fanbase and an important part of it stems from teenagers who worship the ground Freddie walks upon. Being in a band, the frontman gets the majority of fangirls but that doesn’t mean they have never encountered young people just jumping on them to get a signature or a selfie. Especially, Roger is subjected to excessive hugs and kisses, because of his blessed good looks. Brian has been overprotective the last few months, much to Roger’s frustration and Freddie and John’s endless enjoyment, not letting anyone so much as to touch Roger’s arm unless it was someone he was absolutely sure that Roger was close to and comfortable with.

 

Now, suddenly, without him even realizing, Clare has also become his own responsibility.

 

            Of course, he has known her almost since she was a toddler, back when she was a little girl who braided flowers in his hair and forced them all to play house with her. She grew up around them like Kash did. Even though she lived away from London and her brother, she was always around. Now, older, the girls joined them on tours and she even came to stay with them a couple of times since their parents finally trusted Roger enough to take care of her.

 

            But their parents are no more.

 

            And just like that, Brian and Roger have become parents, months before they were expecting it.

 

            And just like that, it has become Brian’s utmost job to take care of her.

 

* * *

 

 

            They go to Roger’s parents’ home in silence, and really how funny and eerie it is to be living through something like this so young. Brian feels like a teen still half of the time himself, he can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for Clare, who remains silent in the back seat.

 

            Freddie and John are waiting for them when they pull up, sitting and talking silently inside John’s old Honda that Veronica refuses to get rid of. John indulges her because it gives them some sort of anonymity whenever they drive around. Freddie’s hair is up in a bun, wearing sunglasses that look decidedly feminine, even some lipstick on. Thankfully he is cleanly shaven. They look like caricatures, types out of a comedy play, the fool, and the drag queen. But they are solemn in their disguised antics, Freddie coming out as soon as he sees them so he can hug the Taylors to himself and bring them inside where there are no watchful eyes.

 

            Inside, it’s warm and so horribly familiar. One would expect something to be off after such drastic change, but even the dishes are still on the breakfast table, reminders of a rushed morning, Clare’s pencils and notebooks scattered around the living room. They have yet to buy a bigger place with what Roger contributes to the family budget, meaning that Brian and even Freddie and John have hundreds of different memories about the place, all of them filled with people in it, good or bad. He can see in their eyes that Roger and Clare expect their parents to walk out of their room any moment, but the house is silent and there is no one but them here.

 

            Not anymore.

 

            Roger hugs Clare again, kissing her forehead. He looks at Freddie and John, “Take care of her for me, yeah?”

 

            With that, he takes Brian’s hand and drags him out of there.

 

* * *

 

 

            Freddie hands Roger some soup to drink in the car before they go to the hospital, thinking it would be too hard for him to swallow inside. Brian would have thought he would have to beg him to drink a bit, having skipped breakfast as well as lunch, because there is no way Roger actually feels hungry in his current state of mind, but he actually drinks it to the last drop without any protest. Without a single sound actually.

 

            He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, his eyes are determined as he reaches for the doorknob. For the thousandth time this day, he acts to be strong. Brian is too scared to comment on it, lest it’s too harsh and Roger breaks down like he is made of glass out here in a hospital parking lot.

 

            Instead, he gets out of the car and skips to the other side to help Roger up, then puts a supporting hand behind him, touch light in case Roger wants to get away but there if he chooses to lean onto.

 

            Roger leans on.

 

            Legs shaking, trusting Brian to keep him up now that there is no Clare around to act so strong for.

 

            They go through the motions then, the endless, horrifying procedure of all that they can’t really escape. There are some things the band can’t do for Roger, that Brian can’t no matter how much they may want to. So, he offers his silent support, waits for the tears and the anger that won’t come yet. Roger’s head in the crook of his neck the whole way, Brian can feel him gulp occasionally to keep the bile down and tears at bay. He has half a mind to get Roger checked up as well, but Roger shakes his head, refusing to stay there a second longer than necessary.

 

* * *

 

 

            They bring Clare back with them to their flat, Freddie having helped her to pack a bag to go. Brian asked her if she had rather stay but she had told them no, eyes still on Roger. She is aware of how thin the thread he is hanging on by really is.

 

But Roger stood strong, almost determined as he made sure Clare got her toothbrush and hairbrush- and really, Roger had won an award for his hair before and Brian was Brian did he really think Clare would have a hair emergency they couldn’t fix?-  Brian could see he was driven by instinct, being motherly without meaning to, and maybe Clare could too because she didn’t move or remarked on how her older brother fussed on her as any other teenager would and let him do his thing until he seemed satisfied with it. Freddie and Brian silently watching and making sure there weren’t any lights or gas on.

 

            On their way back to the city, Roger chooses to sit in the back with Clare and Freddie sat next to Brian just in case, leaving John alone in the other car. By now surely the news broke, they are followed almost everywhere by the press, especially Freddie who is never ashamed of the fact and wears it proudly showing off whenever he can, kisses and fingers to the camera, the whole deal. Still having Freddie around assures him more. The paparazzi are going to try and get a scope with or without him in the car. Freddie can be wild, but he is fierce and dependable. It makes sense to have him in the car if there is an emergency or if they find reporters camping in front of their house. When it comes to Roger’s wellbeing, Brian doesn’t really trust himself at the moment.

 

He knows he can trust Freddie who, in the corner of his eye, has been texting with Miami relentlessly ever since they hit the road.

 

            “It’s best if you don’t log in to social media for a while.”

 

            Brian nods in acknowledgment.

 

            A couple of minutes pass in silence, with only Freddie’s phone buzzing occasionally. Looking back, Brian realizes that Roger has fallen asleep on Clare’s shoulder, she is crying silently but doesn’t move in any way that would wake her older brother up.

 

            “Is he ok?” she asks with a whisper, trying to stop the tears. Roger has bags under his eyes, he is sure they all do having pulled an all-nighter, but he looks worse, pale, ghostly and tiny in the huge fur coat. Brian thinks its probably a first for Clare, who is so much younger, to have her older brother lean on her like that and they all know that it’s not something Roger would do if he weren’t bone deep tired.

 

            Does she feel angry, that she has to take care of him instead of her own pain?

 

            Brian thinks he might have, if he was in her shoes, with teen angst and uncontrollable emotions. But Clare has always been genuinely warm and he can see the worry in her eyes now that they have cleared a bit, her hand coming up to hold Roger’s limp one on in her lap.

 

            Roger doesn’t stir or wake up, dead to the world.

 

            But thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be in any kind of discomfort or physical pain as they all fear.

 

            “He will be once we get him under covers,” Brian assures her, trying to keep his voice as warm and as calm as possible, though he is just as worried.

 

“You both will be.”


End file.
